


laundry day

by nautilicious



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Farmer Keith (Voltron), Laundry, M/M, Short Shorts, Stripper Shiro (Voltron), Yeehaw AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15677118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilicious/pseuds/nautilicious
Summary: “It’s hotter than six shades of hell out there,” Keith says. “Your unmentionables might combust.”





	laundry day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buffshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffshiro/gifts).



> Blessed be the Creator, the fabulously talented tofu! (See [the full Yeehaw Lore](https://twitter.com/buffshiro/status/1020843835822309376))
> 
> Thanks to ely for the quick beta!

“It’s hotter than six shades of hell out there,” Keith says. “Your unmentionables might combust.”

“They’ll dry fast,” Shiro says. 

That’s a good thing, because Shiro inevitably doesn’t realize he’s out of clean g-strings until a few hours before he has to go to work, and then he’s got to scramble to get ready. How a man who had a successful military career can be so absent-minded about some things, Keith will never understand.

Shiro pushes the screen door open, laundry basket on one hip, and heads for the clothesline. Keith stays on the porch, glass of sweet tea in hand, and watches how Shiro’s ass moves when he walks. Shiro’s wearing his shortest pair of shorts, and Keith thanks all the stars above for laundry day.

Shiro sets down the basket and then pulls his shirt off. It’s not a striptease; he’s just a normal guy peeling off a layer on a hot day. Somehow that makes it more sexy: Shiro takes his clothes off for a living, but Keith is the only one that gets to see Shiro undress for real. Keith lets his eyes roam over the strong, broad lines of Shiro’s back, and even though it’s too goddamned hot to do anything but hide in the shade, Keith goes half-hard in his jeans. 

Shiro bends down and rummages through the basket. Keith swallows. The sweet, soft curve of Shiro’s ass is exposed by the cut-off shorts. It takes a while for Shiro to find whatever he’s digging for in that basket, and Keith’s eyes run hungrily over Shiro’s backside the whole time. 

Shiro’s got his backstage towel draped over the line, his arms stretched wide to affix the clothespins. The muscles across his back flex, golden under the drizzle of sunlight. He’s already got a sheen of sweat across his skin. Keith wants to lick him.

Next Shiro grabs a rainbow g-string, and Keith recognizes it: it’s the first one he saw Shiro wear, all those months ago. Keith can remember exactly what it looked like stretched over Shiro's hips while Shiro danced up on Keith that first time, Shiro's body writhing with grace and heat in Keith's lap. He'd remember that night for the rest of his life. 

Shiro’s leaned over the basket again, and now Keith knows Shiro’s doing it on purpose, because there ain’t no cause to spend that much time bent over. Keith sets down his tea. He watches Shiro bend and hang, bend and hang, his hips swaying. Tiny glitter and lace underthings wave gently on the clothesline. Each one brings up a a flash of memory and Keith feels like he's about to combust.

Keith moves quietly into the yard to slip behind Shiro. He splays one hand over Shiro’s abs, then slides it slowly downwards. Shiro arches back, presses his ass against the bulge in Keith’s jeans.

“It’s hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk,” Keith says, “but I reckon I can get you off before we get heatstroke.”

Shiro hums a quiet laugh and catches Keith’s mouth in a kiss as hot as the sun.


End file.
